I tested the water in the small pot. Finally warm, I slipped off my nightdress, rinsed my face and arms in its comfort. As I ran my hands over my body, I wished they were Lovern’s. I vibrated with the sense of the touch of his hands lingering on my breasts last night and the lovemaking that followed. The memory caused my nipples to become sensitive. My heart swelled with joy and wonder at the knowledge that we could be together for years to come.
My thoughts rambled in a confusing tumble this morning. Lovern and I were hand-fasted one year ago today. We had not yet approached Beathan for permission to marry. There was no reason for this lack of action; time just flew by too quickly. A year had passed. I knew I must speak on it soon. Beathan is not one to be patient; he would want this day observed with a decision.
I carried different feelings for Lovern than I had for any other man. When I accepted marrying Harailt, I expected no more than performing normal chores, and cooking his meals. With Lovern, my life was a partnership. He did not treat me like a servant. He and I discussed how best to heal and help our clan. He listened as well as taught me and often took my advice to his work. We were free to go where we wished, when we wished, yet I often followed along to learn from him.
I knew I would be doing this work for the years left in my life. I wanted to do it beside Lovern. But if he decided not to marry me, I would continue to be a healer and helper of souls. That was the gift the gods had given me. Lovern helped me learn how to use it. And I loved him for it.
There was a fear in my gut. We made love frequently, and I still was not with child. Usually, after one year of hand-fasting there was a child to consider. Lovern and I did not have that tie. This thought crept into my mind many times and now, as before, I sighed, shook my head, and released it. I must allow the will of the goddess be done. I will give birth when it is time, when I am ready. As Lovern says, when the goddess is ready.
This morning, as I followed my labyrinth, I prayed a silent thank you to Bel and Morrigna for allowing me to follow their way. I also prayed, while my finger traced my labyrinth, for a sign to help make the decision we faced.
Mother and Lovern were still sleeping. Lovern had come in late last night from a visit with a sick child. His day ahead was full, and I wanted him to rest as long as possible. I listened to the rhythmic inhale and exhale of his sleeping breath behind the hanging wool blanket, there for privacy, and to keep the sometimes messy and odoriferous preparations of our medicines as far away from my mother as possible. Smoke and some odors worsened her cough. A spoonful of a brew made from bog bean and the bittersweet nightshade, three times a day, along with the heather tea and sour milk helped. She seemed to be sleeping better.
We stored our plants and herbs used for the very ill at the hospice. Our small room here filled with treatments for the clan’s common illness.
Hospice. The word sometimes still made my tongue stumble. Some of the clan would not use it and referred to it as Harailt’s home. It was Lovern’s word. He used it when he was learning the healing arts in his other home. Before he came to us -- to me.
We tried to take care of our own in our homes. However, some of the ill required more watching than the family can provide. The hours of the day filled with the care and feeding of our animals, the sowing and harvesting of our crops and the raising of our children. The ill sometimes pushed families beyond their limits.
Harailt and Sileas slept in the home given to this dream, the hospice. Lovern worked there, and when a clan member was close to death, I stayed, too. It was my wish that our friends and neighbors would live long and useful lives with times of work and joy to share. But when the end of life was near, I helped create an easier path for the dying. I did most of this work at the hospice.
After I washed, I was cold and pulled on my tunic and peplum. The nights were still damp, and a breeze ushered in the early hours. I placed two small pots of clean water near the fire, one to boil barley and one for mint tea.
While I prepared our breakfast, I listed in my mind my chores for the day. There was no one ill at the hospice. My morning was free.
I would to go to the river and gather some blackthorn. Its leaves were just coming, and its white blossoms still were stark against the black bark. I harvested the berries in the fall; even the dried ones we now have help stop the bleeding in small wounds. There were many children with raw throats. A wash of its leaves and blossoms steeped in boiling water and then cooled would ease this pain. I wanted to gather enough to boil in a large pot and distribute the tea tomorrow.
I also wanted sweet heather, pungent juniper branches, and green ivy to freshen our bed. The ivy would keep lice away while the smell of the juniper and heather helped us sleep. I thought of lying next to Lovern on our newly freshened bed and smiled. I prayed the day was not too busy for us to lie in it tonight, together.
While the barley boiled and the fragrant tea simmered, I heard Lovern stir. His lithe, sinewy body slipped under the hanging blanket. His trousers already on, he pulled his tunic over his head and shook his copper hair loose. His belt, a cord for his hair, and his memory bag hung from his teeth. After he tied on his belt and slung his bag on his shoulder, he leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. He tied back his long hair into a red tail.
“May the goddess bless this day,” he said as he stepped outside, into the cool haze of a new spring day to carry on his morning routine.
Mother awoke, her cough softer this morning. This pleased me. If her cough was deeper, I would have changed my earlier plans and gone to harvest and start her on a tea of fresh lus mor. The plant was available year-round and we used it to ease the bloody cough. Mother had not yet coughed blood, but I knew she would. It was the progression of this illness. She cleared her throat and, after combing her graying hair into the thick plaits she wore on top of her head, came for breakfast. Lovern returned. We ate and discussed the day ahead.
“I am going into the woods to see if I can find him today.”
Lovern went in search of his namesake, the red fox, every year at this time. He often sat for a full day near a den, waiting to see the foxes.
“If I find one, I will do what is necessary to please the gods.”
“Good hunting, my love,” I said.
He ran his hand over my hair and stooped to kiss me in a gentle goodbye and left.
And so the day of our marriage began.
I survived the sharp and hidden thorns of the blackthorn tree; boiled the infusion and stored it in small jugs, ready to be used by those with sore throats. The heather and juniper were fragrant in our bed. After giving Mother her medicine, it was time to go to the hospice to see if word of new patients came this morning. Sometimes people stopped by to tell us that someone in their family was ill and to ask us to come treat them.
I arrived at the hospice and greeted Sileas with a hug.
“Harailt and I have used this morning to sweep the house and lay clean bedding for the next patients,” she said. “There was even time to go to the river and eat my midday meal. The sound of the waterfall and its peaceful surroundings renewed my spirits.”
“I often wonder, do you and Harailt ever regret turning your home over to the sick? Do you miss the farm?” I asked.
“No. We have never looked back. Remember, it was not our decision. Cerdic commanded it through my vision. I have enjoyed being useful in ways other than farming. I am fulfilled with my work here and never regret it. Harailt tells me that his father’s spirit has come to him in his dreams, smiling,” she said. “We will never be unhappy with this choice.”
She stepped back from the simmering pot, lifting her dress out of the way of the fire. We hugged, happy our lives would continue this path together.
Harailt and Lovern sauntered through the door, heads together, deep in conversation. Harailt hefted an armful of wood for the fire. Lovern carried two hares and his bow.
Handing the hares to Sileas, Lovern said, “There they were sitting in front of me, asking me to bring them to you. I agreed, and now they are yours.”
“Thank you,” said Sileas. She took the hares from Lovern, lifted them to judge their weight, and said, “I think it will be a good hunting season this year. It is early, yet these are a good size. The grasses are growing fast to feed them.”
Harailt took the hares from Sileas. “I will skin, clean them and return them to you. But I must know, Lovern. How many did you see? Is there a concern that we may lose many of our chickens? If it shall be a good year for the foxes, then I must be sure to keep our fowl in a safe place.”
“I saw three yearling males. Each was on the prowl for mates. I am sure there will be females for them close by.” Then Lovern smiled. “I also saw a vixen with four kits. I am always glad to see them. I know Arimid is pleased as long as I continue to have my foxes around me.”
“Arimid,” Harailt said. “She is a demanding goddess. She expects much sacrifice by us to keep the foxes alive.”
“Yes,” said Lovern. “She is the one who gave me my skills for healing and sacrifices must be made to her. I cannot work if the foxes are not here. But I do not worry this year, they are here and well.”
Harailt said, “I have heard your foxes are doing well. There are many farmers missing chickens and ducks. They blame the foxes and would trap them, but you have forbidden it.”
“There will be many young kits for the vixens to feed this year. I will help you build a hut to keep your hens in. They will need protection.”
“But you know many farmers will not be able protect their animals in this way. They will lose food.”
“Yes,” Lovern said. “It is always so. We will pass the word that if they are losing livestock to a fox, they may trap it. If it is a nursing vixen, let her be, but they may kill every other adult male. If that does not work, then come to me. I will help them build protection.”
Harailt nodded, picked up a skinning knife, and walked through the door into the sunshine with the rabbits.
Sileas followed him. “I want to make sure he cuts the skin in a way that I may use it for a winter hat,” she said. “I will return soon.”
I touched Lovern’s tunic. “There is too much blood here for just two hares. Did you find him?”
He reached his long arms around me, and pressed his face into my hair. “How is it you always smell of lavender?” he asked, inhaling deeply.
“It is the same as you always smelling of acorns and beeswax to me. It does not matter what physical work you have done, even after sacrificing a bull, I still find that scent on you, just under your skin. It is you.” As comforting as it was in his arms, I pulled back to see his face. A questioning look came into his eyes. I repeated, “Did you find him?”
His face relaxed into a smile. He took a deep breath and said, “Yes. He was there. He was in the same glen as last year. He was sitting on a warm rock. His fat tail was wrapped around his body. He saw me before I him, yet he stayed. I was able to use one arrow to capture him and thrusted once to kill and bleed him. It was a clean sacrifice.”
He reached into his tunic and brought out a leather packet, holding it at arm’s length for me to take. I took it from him, unwrapped one soft corner, and revealed the red tail of a Forest Fox, Lovern’s totem.
“The gods be praised. It is fine,” I said as I ran my fingers through its long red fur. I wrapped it, handed it back and Lovern tucked it into his tunic. It was to be displayed above the door of our home, one to be added each year.
“I buried his heart near the sacred pool,” he said in answer to my unvoiced question. “I stopped there, near the water fall, to pray and wash his blood from my arms.
“I understand the farmers’ disquiet,” said Lovern. “However, we must all make sacrifices to the gods in trade for our lives. For me to stay here, I must have the foxes nearby. I cannot have them killed, or I would leave. They bring my dreams,” Lovern said. “Conyn told me they bring the art of healing to me. They are my namesake, my sacred symbols,” said Lovern, with an earnest face.
“Lovern, do not be concerned about your sacred foxes. We will protect them. Our clan heeds your words,” I said, my hand on his shoulder. “I, myself, will go to the den and raise the kits if something happens to the vixen.”
Hearing a flurry of commotion, we turned and watched as a stout, red-faced man I recognized as Aonghus bolted into the room, carrying his weeping boy Torrian. His heavily pregnant third wife and gaggle of small children followed him.
“Please!” His appeals were directed to Lovern. “Torrian fell and hurt his leg.”
We gathered around the big man carrying the small boy, parting the crowd of children to reach them.
Aonghus admonished Torrian as Lovern took the crying boy into his arms. “If you would do what I ask, the gods would not punish you in such ways. You must learn that you should get your work done and then go off chasing clouds.”
“We will see what the injury is,” said Lovern, “and treat it the best we can. Harailt, hold the boy’s leg, keep it as still as possible, while I lay him on the cot.”
“We cannot stay at home to care for him,” said Aonghus. “We are lambing and have to get crops planted. We are needed in the fields.”
Torrian cried out in pain as Lovern and Harailt laid him on the cot.
I saw Aonghus’ brow crease at the sound of his injured son. “I sent him to clean the goat pen, but as usual he ran off. He never does what I ask. We always have to look for him. He runs off chasing butterflies or bugs. I heard him yell and found him lying on the ground under a tree. Can you help him?” He looked at Lovern with pleading eyes.
Sileas and I kept track of the children as well as we could. Some of our pots contained poisons. “Aonghus, take your children home. I will come after Lovern has done his work and tell you of the results,” I said.
Aonghus controlled his children. He left with them and his wife trailing after him like a father goose with his goslings.
Lovern placed his hands on the boy’s body to determine the injuries as I sat down next to him and held his small, trembling, dirt-encrusted hand and sang a lullaby. Torrian calmed his crying to a whimper. His tears slowed in the paths cut through the grime on his cheeks, and he answered Lovern’s questions.
“The branch broke,” Torrian whimpered. “I was trying to catch the bluest bird ever! That branch held me before. OUCH!” Lovern touched the swelling bruise on his leg.
“Is my father right? Is this the gods’ punishment?” Torrian whimpered.
“Do you hurt anywhere other than your leg?” asked Lovern.
“I bumped my head and landed on my wrist but my leg hurts the most,” the young adventurer replied.
I watched Lovern’s face, deep in concentration as he inspected the boy’s other injuries. He ran his large, gentle hands over Torrian’s blond covered head, and down to Torrian’s hand where he looked over his wrist.
Lovern’s face softened when he spoke with the boy. “The gods do many things to teach us right from wrong. It is good that you are interested in the nature around you and want to know more. But the gods say you must obey first your chieftain, then your father and mother before you think of yourself. You should do your chores before exploring.”
Torrian nodded in agreement.
“When you get better,” Lovern continued, “with your father’s permission, I will take you into the forest and teach you more about nature. After your work is done.”
Suddenly, all my doubt left my heart. In my eyes, the hand of my own child replaced Torrian’s small hand in mine. I would give birth. I did not know when but I knew I would have a baby. Silently, I thanked the goddess.
The boy nodded, his whimpering eased, and his tears stopped.
I was worried about the boy. His left foot hung out of its normal position. A red, angry blood-swelling raised one half the distance below his knee and above his ankle. Regret for a young life to be lived as a cripple washed through me. The result for this injury was at the least a very bad limp or maybe no use of his leg. I have seen some die.
“You have broken your leg,” Lovern said. With a stern look on his face, he continued, “This will take three full moon cycles to heal, and you will be restricted in your movements during that time. The bone inside your leg, the thing that makes it stiff so you can walk, has broken. Like this,” Lovern said. Lovern reached down by the fire, picked up a small piece of kindling, and snapped it.
The sharp sound made both Torrian and I flinch.
“But look, how the pieces go together.” Lovern pressed the broken ends of the stick together. “This piece of wood is dead, but your leg is alive, and the bone will grow strong again. We have to put the pieces back together, like the stick, and keep them there for three moon cycles to give your leg a chance to mend straight. If you do not follow my instructions, and go off chasing a bird again, you may not walk with this leg or you will badly limp,” lectured Lovern.
“Can you help him walk again?” Sileas’ face was pursed in doubt when she asked this question. She voiced my silent concern.
Memories of the damp smell of the cave and the sound of lightning came into my head. The night he told me about his journey, he also told me he studied with Kinsey, the healer who could make people walk again.
“Lovern can do this,” I said with confidence.
“Harailt, please find four strong, straight caorann branches, the length of his leg.” Lovern said, in his teaching voice. “Sileas, we need four long strips of cloth to use as binders. Jahna, boil some barley, thick, and mix it with honey. Add some of the dried meacan dubh. We will lay the bone-set mixture on the broken bone.”
We rushed to complete our assigned tasks while Lovern comforted the boy, told him stories of the gods’ battles with giants, and dripped the juice of the red meilbheag onto his lips. The poppy juice was bitter and the boy made a face. After he swallowed, I knew Torrian would sleep and not remember the pain.
Harailt came in with the rowan branches, still removing leaves and berries from the gray bark as he entered. He laid them within Lovern’s reach. Sileas appeared with cloth ties. I brought the still warm poultice of barley, honey, and comfrey.
“Harailt,” said Lovern, “settle his head in your lap and hold his shoulders.” He then asked Torrian, ““Are you a still a little boy or are you now a young man?”
Torrian’s shoulders straightened, his brows knit in defiance and in a proud voice replied, “I am a man. I have my own goat to care for.”
“Ah, I thought so. A little boy would be afraid of this injury, but I can see in your face, you are not. This will be painful, but you will sleep. When you awaken, you will lie here in this bed for seven sunrises. We will bring you food, drink, and care for you in all ways. Only then are you allowed up with an aid for walking until your leg heals. If you do not heed this bargain with the gods, your leg will not heal straight. Do you understand me?” asked Lovern.
Lovern spoke in his straightforward way. He instilled confidence in those he treated. He always spoke the truth, and the people of our clan trusted him.
“Yes,” whispered Torrian.
Torrian’s face, set in a determined grimace, seemed to get younger as Harailt settled his head and shoulders into his lap.
“Open your mouth.” I inserted an oak stick soaked in vetch between his teeth. “Now bite.” The taste would distract him from what was about to happen.
Lovern grasped Torrian’s foot and ankle firmly, and pulled until the leg straightened. Torrian screamed and fainted, as we expected. I folded the poultice around his bruised leg while Lovern and Harailt positioned the branches and, as fast as Sileas could hand the cloth to them, tied them into place.
Sileas went to the fire to prepare the boiled lus for Torrian when he woke up. The wort would calm him and stop the bleeding in the leg.
“He must have mistletoe tied in red thread under his head when he sleeps. The gods will look on this with favor, and his blood may not poison. Feed him ground, boiled apple, and be sure he has a few drops of the poppy juice in his water,” said Lovern. Sileas nodded and went to find the red thread and dried apple.
A large shadow darkened our doorway. I turned and saw Beathan, our chieftain. He had not come into this dwelling since Harailt and Sileas gave it to the clan in honor of Cerdic to be used as a hospice a year before.
“Tell me what you are doing.” Beathan’s deep voice shook the still air in the small room. “Why did I hear a scream as I came into this yard? Is the boy still alive?” His eyes found mine with his last question.
He gave Lovern and me the stern looks of a disapproving father. He was taking our measure.
I think he felt the loss of the farm, but I knew the sheep that moved to the neighboring farm in Harailt’s trade were giving more wool than before. The clan did not lose but gained in this deal. He would not admit it. He was my uncle and I respected him as a father, but I was always ready to defend our work if he questioned it. His silence was worse as it hid his thoughts.
“Good afternoon, Uncle. It is good that you have come to see what we do here,” I said, smiling as I walked over to the towering man. I took his huge paw that dwarfed my hand and proudly guided him to where Torrian lay sleeping.
“Lovern has given this boy a chance to heal and walk again. Torrian has broken his leg. Before this hospice, Torrian would have been in his bed, at home, alone, and in a fever with little treatment. He probably would have died. Or, if he lived, he would not have the use of his leg.
“Because of what Lovern accomplished today and the treatment he will get in the coming days from Harailt and Sileas, this boy will live to be a free farmer or warrior for the next chieftain of our clan. He will outlive you, bråthair-måthar, healthy and strong.”
Uncle Beathan grabbed me in a bear hug and lifted me off the floor.
“Ah, I see you still have the tongue of a brat,” Beathan said. “I am glad you have not grown out of that. You must cause Lovern many gut-aches with your insolence.” He turned to Lovern. “Well, do you still want to marry this meanbh-chuileag? These midges can make a man very angry. Or have you changed your mind and found a pleasant quiet mouse to warm your bed?”
“Put me down, Uncle,” I whispered, though Beathan’s laugh probably woke up Torrian. “You are crushing my ribs, and what do you mean a quiet mouse to warm his bed? Do you expect him to follow your example of not marrying and trying on all the single women of the clan? I will not allow it.”
“Not allow it?” asked Beathan, seriously. “Not allow it? Who are you to not allow it? Are you married? How can you not allow it if you are not married?”
Still in Beathan’s grip I heard Sileas and Harailt begin to laugh and saw a grin break out on Lovern’s face. Why was he grinning? Did he think it was a good idea to have all the unwed women of our clan to warm his bed?
Lovern stopped laughing and answered. “Ah, Great Chieftain. You are mo chraid. But, I would never be able to call you more than friend if I did not marry her. I wish to call you uncle. I have never had an uncle, and to have one as great as you would be a good thing.”
“Unh,” Beathan grunted as he lowered me to the floor, my feet regaining my body’s balance as he let go.
Lovern came to me, leaned over, his face close to mine, and embraced my cheeks in his hands. My eyes looked up into his as he said, “There are no others, a ghaoil. My beloved, I want to marry you because you complete my soul. You healed my broken heart. I traveled far and outran many dangers to find you. I know that without you I would not be able to do the gods’ work, my work. I wish to make our union permanent and marry you.”
My heart swelled with love at his words. Standing next to him, I smelled acorns. I laid my arms on his chest, my hands on his shoulders, and said, “Bel and Morrigna sent me a vision today. I will have a child. I will marry you to complete us. I will marry you because I love you. Without you, I could not have finished my labyrinth.” My cheeks were wet with tears. His thumbs wiped them away with tenderness.
I pulled him to me and when our lips touched, I felt a release of the tension of the day. In its place was an excitement for this night in bed as well as the years, no matter how few, ahead of us. I did not want this kiss to end. When we broke apart, we turned, arm in arm to Beathan.
“Uncle,” I said. “I feel this is an auspicious time. We must marry now. We should not wait any longer. There is an ancient oak nearby.” I turned to Lovern, “May we be married under the oak?” His hands squeezed mine.
“Yes,” said Lovern, his eyes sparkling. “I agree. It should be now.”
“Lovern,” I said, “go to the tree, and wait. I will get Mother. Then, Beathan can marry us.” He nodded as I turned and ran out of the hospice.
“Is it twelve moons already?” said Mother.
“Mother, let us start down the hill. You can talk to me as we walk. They are waiting for us, and we do not dare keep Beathan waiting too long.”
“Bah. He thinks he is so important, but I knew him when our mother chased him all over the hilltop for teasing our hens. He was made to do his chores and mine when Mother caught him. Sometimes I would tease the hens and blame him so I could go off and be with my friends for a day.” Mother chuckled. “He would get his revenge, though. I often found small animals or insects in my dress. He never admitted it, but he would wear a big grin when I found them and screamed.”
We were through the gate and halfway down the hill, me impatient but gently tugging on her arm, her taking one deliberate step at a time, and she continued, “Twelve moons. That is how long it took your father and me to decide to marry. He was gone on one of his trading journeys for two moons. When he returned, he told me he had decided to marry me. I laughed. There was no decision to make in my mind. We were to be together. He was a part of my life and I a part of his. When he told me, I remember, he swung me up in his arms and kissed me. Then we walked to your bed. You were three months old. He picked you up and cradled you. So gentle for such big arms,” she said with a far away look. “He looked into your eyes, the reflection of his, and promised to take care of you for all your life.”
She stopped walking and coughed. “We did not know how short a time we would have together. But the time we had together was good. He was a good father and husband. I missed him for a long time. Enough of the past.” She waved me on as if telling me to walk faster. “Let us go celebrate the future!”
We approached the tree where Beathan, Lovern, and Harailt stood waiting. Torrian would sleep a while longer so Sileas was there, also. I waved, but before we walked closer, Mother pinched my ear and brought me close to her mouth.
“I have doubts about your marriage to him, Jahna. You are not with child. I can tell. Is it best to be married to this man? Should you look for a man who can give you a child?” she whispered loudly. “You have been sleeping with him. I hear you. But there is no baby.”
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I answered, “Mother. Today, a sign was given to me. This is what the goddess wills. If it is to be, you will live to hold a grandchild.”
“I hope to live to hold many, Jahna. I want many grandchildren. It is the right of a mother to want grandchildren.”
The oak was near our sacred spring. We used the water under the oak to wash our feet and hands in purification rituals. Lovern and I used it when mixing our cures. It was a favorable place. It was a blessed place to be married. It temporarily eased my mind of the shadows of doubts about our life together.
We gathered into a circle, Beathan in the center. The trampled grass's fragrance wafted through the air. Flowers nestled in small clumps around the tree trunk and above us the birds sang. The sky darkened. A cloud of ravens flew over without a sound and landed in a willow. A shiver rippled down my back. We were being watched. Morrigna was there. My hand quivered in Lovern’s strong hand. His grip tightened; he smiled, reassuring.
Beathan spoke, “That you wish to be married does not surprise me. Do not think the longing looks you gave one another at my dinner table escaped me. I knew you were eating to gather strength to tumble through the night,” he said gruffly but with a twinkle in his eye. “It is about time. I was beginning to wonder if I would have to make a demand for this to happen! When you first came, Lovern, I was unsure, wary of you. But you kept your promises.”
Beathan turned his head to look at me. Did I see a bit of moisture reflect the sunlight on his eyelashes?
“Jahna. My sister